


Sugar and Naps

by partialresonance



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Cake-shaped cake, Crack, Cultural Differences, Fluff, Gingerpilot, Gingerpilot Week 2020, Hux gets a sugar high, M/M, that's it that's all this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25340398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partialresonance/pseuds/partialresonance
Summary: Written for Gingerpilot Week 2020 Day 7: First TimeHux has never had cake before. Poe remedies that.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 26
Kudos: 78
Collections: Gingerpilot Week 2020





	Sugar and Naps

“What is this?”

“Hmm?” Poe looks up from his own tray of food to see Hux using his fork to point at the square cut of cake. Poe’s mouth curls up into a smile; Hux has a vaguely suspicious expression as he prods at the cake, eyebrows drawing together in a way that makes Poe want to kiss where they meet above the bridge of his nose. “That’s chocolate cake, babe.”

“Cake.” Hux’s expression resolves into one of faint disgust.

“You…know about cake, right?”

“I’m not a simpleton! I just wasn’t aware that _confections_ were part of your daily rations.”

Poe chuckles, knowing better than to take the sharp tone to heart.

“So when’s the last time you had cake?”

“I’ve never had it.” Hux puts down the fork and pushes his tray away. He’d eaten everything else. “It’s unnecessary. Confections provide no nutritional value that I wouldn’t get from the carbohydrates and proteins in more substantial foods.” Which, Poe knows, despite being bland to him are downright luxurious compared to what Hux is used to eating.

“You should try it, Hugs.” Poe pushes the tray back towards him with a sly smile. “You might like it.”

“It doesn’t matter if I _like_ it. I don’t need it.”

“I mean, technically you don’t need lots of things.” Poe leans in, whispering into his ear. “You didn’t _need_ what we did last night. I’m still glad we did it and you seemed to enjoy yourself.”

Hux blushes, looking flustered, and Poe’s heart swells with affection.

“Just try it. I like seeing you enjoy things.”

“Fine. Since you insist.” Hux rolls his eyes. He picks up the fork and takes the tiniest bite Poe has ever seen. As soon as the cake hits his tongue, his eyes go wide.

“Good, right?”

“It’s…” Hux swallows. “Yes.” He takes another bite, this time of a normal size, and Poe does a happy little dance in his seat. Every time he gets Hux to try something new he gets a little thrill, like it’s the biggest victory. And it sort of is—Hux can be _very_ stubborn and habits that have been drilled into him for thirty-five years are hard to break.

Poe blinks, and suddenly Hux’s tray is empty. He’d finished the cake in four or five quick bites, and now he’s absentmindedly holding the fork with the tines between his lips and eyeing up Poe’s tray. Wordlessly, biting back a smile, Poe pushes his tray towards Hux.

“You want mine? You deserve it after going your whole life without it.”

“That would be gluttonous.” Hux looks at the cake, then back at Poe. Cake. Poe. Cake.

“I won’t tell if you won’t tell.” Poe winks at him.

Hux ends up taking a bite or two before pushing it away, full and satisfied at last. Poe grins and finishes the last piece of cake. It’s nothing to write home about, the texture grainy and barely even sweet enough to qualify as dessert. But Hux had eaten it like a boy getting his first taste of sugar.

They head to Poe’s quarters after dinner, which is where Hux spends a majority of his time. The attitude around the base is one of politely looking the other way if not actively encouraging the strange windfall of this developing relationship between the former enemy generals.

BB-8 zooms past them and Hux cocks his head.

“Your astromech’s personality module is highly unusual.”

“Yeah?” Poe keys in the code and the door to his room swooshes open. Hux hurries inside, shucking his greatcoat and folding it over the back of a chair and then pacing behind BB-8, who rolls in a wide circle, trying to keep his optical receptor on the man.

“Yes. We use—used—top-of-the-line BB-9E astromech droids to service our Star Destroyers and they’ve never exhibited this level of hyperactivity or attachment to an individual.” Hux is speaking rapidly, coming to a stop with his arms crossed over his chest, one slender finger tapping his chin as he watches BB-8.

“Hyperactivity, huh?” Poe breaks into a wide grin.

“Yes.” Hux wiggles his fingers. “He’s going very fast. He rolls everywhere, very fast—why are you laughing?”

“No reason. Maybe he rolls around fast because he’s so attached to me and he’s trying to keep up. What do you think, BB?”

BB-8 beeps, _I think it’s the other way around._

“And this! This is what I’m talking about!” Hux stabs a finger in the air. “Such a reply is indeed _highly_ unusual. Am I mistaken, or was that _sass?_ ” He drops into a crouch and stares eye-to-receptor with BB-8. “Will you submit to an inspection of your internal components and personality subroutines?”

Poe shouts “No!” at the same time that BB-8 rolls backward in alarm, beeping a string of expletives. Hux seems nonplussed by the response. Poe rushes forward and puts a hand on Hux’s shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with BB.”

“Well, clearly there is,” Hux says, standing up again, “but I suppose, according to Resistance custom, he is entitled to his malfunctions so long as they do not impact his performance when he isflying with you. And since you are still alive I’ll have to assume that is the case.” He looks back and forth between Poe and BB-8, seeming to finally sense the tension in the air. “What ever is the matter? I was offering to perform _maintenance_ on your droid.”

“I think you’re gettin’ a little ahead of yourself there, buddy.” Poe pats his arm. “But that’s okay. What do you say we sit down and—”

“It must be due to the particular assignment. Our BB-9E droids are responsible for ship maintenance but are also programmed for quite ruthless loyalty to the First Order. You know that’s how your spies were found out, correct? A BB-9E droid alerted command to the presence of interfering malcontents aboard _their_ ship. So perhaps it’s not so much a malfunction, this odd—” he waves a hand, searching for the words, “loyalty subroutine, but only its particular _manifestation_ that is wholly unfamiliar to me. You’re laughing again even though I’m making perfect sense and I would prefer if you stopped.”

“Hux,” Poe chuckles, “When was the last time you had sugar?”

“What?” Hux turns to him, utterly perplexed. “Whatever do you mean? Sugar is a generic term for a particular subset of carbohydrates which, I assure you, I constantly ingest. They perform critical roles in living organisms, such as the storage of energy, forming structural components of cells—” Hux is ticking them off on his fingers and Poe brings his hands up to cover them, weak with laughter. Hux colors. “You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not, babe, I’m not,” he manages, shoulders shaking in mirth. “Just, do you hear yourself right now? You’re talking a lot.”

Hux’s blush deepens. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“I like to talk,” he admits. “I like to talk to you. I would like for you to think that I—know things. That I’m useful. I’ll stop if it’s unseemly. It is, isn’t it? I feel like I could scale a mountain right now.”

“It’s a sugar high.” Poe draws Hux closer, rubbing his hands. “Carbohydrates aren’t the same as pure sugar, even I know that. I mean…right?” Honestly, Poe isn’t sure.

“I suppose you have a point.”

“And Hux, you don’t have to prove you’re useful to me. I like you. A _lot._ I think you’re very cute right now.”

“I don’t feel cute. I feel silly.” He extracts himself from Poe and strides over to the table. “I would like to work on my datapad for a while.”

“Sit with me on the bed, while you do?”

“Fine.”

They arrange themselves with Poe’s back against the wall and Hux between his legs, leaning back against his chest. Hux’s fingers fly furiously over the datapad and he mutters to himself, sometimes engaging Poe with questions that he must know Poe doesn’t have the answers to. Poe looks at the screen over Hux’s shoulder and lays chaste little kisses on his neck, his arms wrapped tight around the other man.

“Do you see this part, right here?” Hux expands the diagram of the Resistance base’s power structure. “You actually have all the groundwork you’d need for—” he breaks off in a sudden jaw-cracking yawn, and when he continues his voice is a bit slurred. “For, um…what was it?”

Poe surpasses another chuckle as Hux leans heavily against him, the datapad tilting down to rest in his lap.

“Shields,” Hux murmurs, then yawns again. “Is it very late?”

“Not particularly, but I wouldn’t mind resting for a bit.”

“Good.” Hux turns his head and rubs his nose against Poe’s shirt, eyes already closed. “I don’t know why I’m suddenly quite tired.”

“Well, after a sugar high there’s usually a crash.” Poe strokes his hair.

“How inefficient.” The datapad suddenly slips from Hux’s hand and Poe catches it before it can fall off the bed. “Oh,” Hux shifts against him but Poe holds him against his chest, setting the datapad out of reach.

“It’s alright. Go ahead and take a nap, it’ll be there when you wake up.”

“A _nap._ ” Hux snorts, burrowing in to Poe’s embrace. “You’re all soft. I don’t know how we lost to sugar and naps.”

“But you’re glad you did.” Poe kisses Hux’s hair, resting his chin atop the other man’s head. “Right, Hux?”

There is no answer. Hux is already asleep.


End file.
